Carpe Diem: 100 Themes
by Arashinobara Jikkankakyoku
Summary: A series of short oneshots written in response to the hundred themes challenge, all set in the 'present day' and based around Usagi and Mamoru.
1. Hair

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**A/N: Dedicated to Jikkan-neechan. **

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_**Hair**_

Each life is a thread in the hands of Fate, and Fate spins and measures and cuts… each is hair-thin and hair-delicate, and Mamoru knows it.

He knows also that his life-thread is longer and tougher than most – he merely woke one day, impossibly aware of the bottomless potential within that made him feel invincible and indomitable. Mamoru knows that his time will come, as Chiba Mamoru or Tuxedo Kamen or Endymion, but that he will look Death in the eye many, many times; perhaps even be led a little ways away from Life by the dark scythe-bearer, but that he will always come back.

Back to _Her_.

Their new love is tentative, as hair-like and hair-thin as his life-thread had been when he was a mere mortal. Animosity hung between them – he can not deny that he had once been an enemy of the schoolgirl and the warrior, though a lover and champion of the Princess.

But when he looks into her blue, blue eyes, and leans in so that their lips meet demurely and sparks go off in his head, or simply to brush her dainty nose with his in a subtle kiss of simple contact, he sees the frail, hair-thin future widen into a crossroads of infinite possibilities.

Does he love _Her_?

If love is the pounding in his heart, his mind and his soul, then yes, he does.

If love is the way he is distracted whenever she tilts her head just so, and her hair flashes gold in the sun, then yes, he does.

If love is the way he sees eternity in her eyes and her smile, and even her clumsy movements with coltishly flailing limbs, then yes, he does.

Chiba Mamoru loves Tsukino Usagi.

And suddenly, the hair-light, hair-thin connection flares anew and he is blinded, grappling desperately at any of the many possibilities and ever-shifting potentials.

But he knows it will be okay, because Mamoru loves Usagi and _She _loves him back.

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**A/N: Erm... review, please? **

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	2. Short Skirt

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**A/N: Written for Natsudori Linako.**

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Short Skirt**_

Tuxedo Kamen always kept his eyes averted from Sailormoon – he looked _around_ her and _about_ her, but never _at _her.

Her fuku was skimpy, almost scandalously so. _What would her parents say if they knew? _He wondered idly, setting her down and thanking all manner of deities for the way his mask hid his tightly-closed eyes.

No, Tuxedo Kamen would never abuse the poor girl's trust by ogling her ill-clothed form, though he doubted the young senshi would trust him so much if she knew her so-called saviour relied on hear-sight, smell-sight, taste-sight and touch-sight more than_ eye_-sight to sweep her from danger.

He prided himself on his self-control _in not looking_, though it often seemed that same stoicism seemed lacking about the other senshi – Mars and Mercury's half-clad bodies incited more annoyance than admiration in him, but his mind always shrieked in horror as he thought of the way Moon's slender body was exposed for all to see.

It would simply not do to look. _Or have others looking._

You see, it was indecent.

So Tuxedo Kamen leapt with closed eyes behind his opaque mask, and only the draw of her presence saved both their lives countless times as Moon-in-danger beckoned to him and he, feeling quite ridiculous and lecherous for doing so but unable to stop, swept his cape about her in a parody of modesty, and pulled her close.

But one afternoon when he took his ritual leap of faith, he realised that the writhing of his stomach did not stop when he scooped her out of harm's way. Rather, he continued to fall, and his eyes opened desperately, but he could not see daylight, though he saw _her_…

…and after that, he swore to catch as much a glimpse as he could.

He was, after all, only a man.

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**A/N: Ehe... so, how about that review now?**

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	3. Kiss

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A/N: Merry Christmas Eve!

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_**Kiss**_

Mamoru's hands clenched spasmodically; eyes that were a glittering ocean-blue scarce five minutes ago were now clouded with despair.

_You should have treated her better_.

He heard but did not listen as another voice chimed in, urging him to _turn away_.

_I wish I could._

His lips moved silently – what was that sting in his eyes? The teen lifted a large hand to his face, never taking his eyes from the amorous couple _golden-blonde and white-blond and Odangos… _gods_, Odango…_

He was supremely surprised to feel wetness trickling down his cheek, and in his shock, two glistening trails were allowed to fall an eternity below to the dusty path.

_Tears?_

Mamoru saw her hands clutch at her new boyfriend's chest – _new, because I would have known before now… _have_ to have known…_

_Idiot. _Blunt fingers dashed the tears beginning to form anew. _No. _He turned defiantly away – Odango could kiss whom Odango wanted. _No tears. _Why_ tears?_

He couldn't remember the last time he cried. _Chiba Mamoru doesn't cry. _"Odango Atama…" he muttered, feeling a sudden surge of resentment. Who was she to make him feel this way? Even as he thought this, he felt his own features icing over, the warm ocean taking upon a steel-blue tinge as the cold stole his heart –

Behind him came a sudden thud, a series of gasping breaths and a feminine shriek of pure, unadulterated fury.

Mamoru's body, against his mind's better judgement, turned automatically and it was a pair of delighted eyes _ocean again _that witnessed the small fist fly out to deal her amorous partner the most beautifully-executed right hook the dark-haired upperclassman he'd ever seen.

The blond's head snapped back before a stamp on his foot caused a yowl of pain and a series of daintier slaps from the other hand seemed to echo through the rose gardens. Mamoru couldn't help but grin smugly.

"What did you think you are _doing_, you _idiot_!" the Odango roared, and it seemed to all the flabbergasted onlookers that she appeared to swell with rage. "_That was my first kiss_!"

Even as 'The Idiot Blond' stammered a reply, she examined her own hand, the expression of disgust on her pretty features deepening dramatically. "And I think I broke my hand on your stupid rock head, anyway," she hissed, storming away from a humiliated would-be lover.

As if by some unspoken decision, Mamoru slowed his pace (when had he begun to walk away?) and she fell into step with him.

"Can you _believe_ the nerve of that guy?" she fumed.

Mamoru could not resist a chuckle, and as if realising the identity of her companion, she looked up at him, eyes wide with shock and a little bit of something that Mamoru could not quite name, though he felt it in the insistent throb of his heart. It swelled with pride in his Odango, and he smiled pleasantly at her, leaning down and allowing the words of a jealous male to slip by his guard and into his Usako's ear.

"I'll bet he peroxides his hair, too."

It was a tease, and both knew it, though she said the customary "Shut up, Baka," all the same. They smiled at one another for a few moments, not realising they had stopped walking. Suddenly, a queer expression crossed her small face. "Have you been _crying_?"

Usako sounded so bewildered and flabbergasted that her Mamo-chan felt himself flush, scrubbing at his face and realising that the tear-tracks had not quite dried. "Of course not," he said blandly.

_Liar_.

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End file.
